


Of Two Worlds

by Yahtzee



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Alternate Reality, F/M, crossover character - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-17
Updated: 2011-06-17
Packaged: 2017-10-20 12:06:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/212613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yahtzee/pseuds/Yahtzee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock finds himself shifting between the Prime universe and his own -- for a very unexpected reason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Two Worlds

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Tara and Rheanna for the betas.

The initial disruption was so minor that nobody noticed but Spock.

For the first five hours, alpha shift had proceeded normally. Spock found his scientific studies of the star they orbiting quite absorbing. Captain Kirk had little to do during the study, a situation that sometimes led to inexplicable conversational asides, but he was taking the opportunity to catch up on various bureaucratic forms.

Nyota was also busy. Maintaining open subspace communications could be difficult this close to a star. Spock hoped that this was the reason for her extraordinary concentration on her bridge station – and not their discussion that morning.

The night before, while they were in the rec room, Nyota had kissed him on the cheek in the view of many crewmembers. After some deliberation, Spock had mentioned over breakfast that such public displays of affection were inappropriate. Nyota had said that the entire crew already knew of their relationship, which was not against regulations, so she did not see the difficulty. Spock had explained that his objection was not rooted in false secrecy or shame, but that he wished to maintain a professional demeanor while in the presence of the crew. Nyota had protested that the kiss was only a small one, an impulse. When he had attempted to point out the logical inconsistency of her statement, the conversation had taken a decidedly negative turn.

Spock put such thoughts aside. Nyota was quite rational; given time she would see the wisdom of his view.

From his post on the bridge, he looked down into the scanner at a very ordinary set of readings – until they ceased to be ordinary. Within an instant, the temperature levels rose markedly, by millions of degrees, hotter than any red dwarf star should ever be. Spock double-checked his instruments, then straightened. “Captain, the star is showing signs of instability.”

“Instability?” Jim looked up from his PADD with a frown. “What kind of instability?”

“The temperature of the star –“ Uncharacteristically, Spock did not complete the thought.

On the viewscreen at the front of the bridge glowed the image of their current subject of study: a white dwarf star. They were conducting research on this star at the request of one Admiral Quincy with the Starfleet Science General office. A quick glance back at his scanner revealed that the star’s temperature was precisely as he had observed before – abnormally high for a red dwarf, but quite normal for a white dwarf.

“Spock?” Jim’s smile was somewhat bemused. “Do we have a problem or don’t we?”

“We do not, Captain. You may disregard my earlier comment.”

“Instrument glitch, Spock? Let me know if we need to get Scotty up here to check everything out.” Jim went back to work, untroubled.

“If repairs are required, I will inform you, but I doubt their necessity.” Spock felt that his answer was somewhat disingenuous, but in this case it was preferable to complete honesty.

Was he perhaps experiencing some sort of mental lapse? Before his inexplicable mistake, Spock knew that he had worked at top efficiency and concentration throughout his shift, beginning at 0800 hours when he had examined the night examination logs of –

\--of the red dwarf.

\--of the white dwarf.

Fascinating. He retained two separate memories of his first act while on shift; one in error and one accurate. Yet the erroneous memories seemed as clear and rational as the correct ones.

Spock glanced at Nyota’s station, where she remained deeply engrossed in her work. He would have preferred to first speak of this to her, but the matter was not so personal that he could justify the interruption. Jim, on the other hand, looked almost bored. Everything struck him as slightly and imperceptibly altered, in ways he could not quite analyze.

“Captain?” Spock stepped closer to the command chair. “May I ask you a question? Its relevance may first seem to be limited, but I assure you that it serves a purpose.”

Jim’s smile edged close to a smirk. “A personal question, Spock? Seems unlike you.”

“I wish only to ask whether, in the past few minutes, you have experienced any sort of – lapse of memory, or perhaps a confused concept of the day’s events.”

“Déjà vu, you mean? No, nothing like that.” Jim became more serious. “Are you all right?”

“I’m uncertain, Captain. With your permission, I will go to Sickbay and attempt to ascertain this.”

Nyota looked up from her station, concerned; Jim frowned. They knew of his reluctance to submit to the authority of Dr. McCoy. “What’s wrong?” Jim asked.

“Perhaps nothing,” Spock said. Even as he spoke, however, he became more certain that something was amiss. “Mr. Chekov will be able to continue the study in my absence.”

Jim looked as though he would like to ask more questions, but he instead waved Spock toward the turbolift. As Spock went, he glanced at Nyota, meaning to reassure her with a look. However, she was already back at work.

Peculiar, he thought, as the turbolift zipped up to sickbay. Nyota was not given to undue worry, but she was generally warmly solicitous of his well-being. Surely their disagreement this morning would not outweigh that. Then again, perhaps she was remembering his words and attempting to maintain stronger emotional control. Was that not as he had wished it?

His reaction to her stricter discipline was not what he would have anticipated.

The turbolift slowed, and the deceleration seemed too swift, too sharp. Spock braced himself against the wall, fighting a sudden surge of dizziness.

So, he was unwell. Spock resigned himself to a McCoy lecture, distasteful medicines and perhaps enforced rest. On the whole, however, he was relieved that an explanation for his duplicate memories was at hand, and that it was as simple as illness.

Until it wasn’t.

“Heartbeat’s normal – at least, your version of normal,” McCoy said, running the medscanner up and down. The biobed controls hovered within acceptable limits. “Your blood chemistry seems good, assuming that anything as crazy-quilt as your blood chemistry is ever good. Digestion seems fine, for someone who lives on rabbit food.”

“Doctor, please refrain from commenting on that which we both already know, namely the unique nature of my physiology. Concentrate on the matter at hand.”

“The matter at hand, your health, is what we humans would call A-okay.”

“Are you quite certain?”

“Every reading is in line with your last physical.” McCoy shrugged. “What’s the matter, Spock? Did you accidentally laugh and sprain something?”

“I experienced dizziness on the turbolift,” Spock began.

“Could be a momentary irregularity in your blood pressure. Many people have them from time to time – even Vulcans. It’s no cause for alarm.”

He would have to disclose more of the truth. “In addition, while on the bridge, I was briefly confused as to our mission here. I believed that we were surveying a red dwarf star instead of the white dwarf. Although I have since remembered our mission parameters, I retain the memory of observing a red dwarf star. It exists simultaneously with the correct memory.”

McCoy stared at him for a moment, as well he might. But his first question was not what Spock anticipated. “You remember us observing a white dwarf star?”

“Affirmative.” This did not win a reaction. Spock elucidated: “The study for Admiral Quincy.”

“I don’t know any Admiral Quincy,” McCoy said, “And every day for the past week, I’ve avoided looking out the rec room windows because I didn’t want the boiling red surface of that star staring me in the face.”

“Doctor?”

“I’m a doctor, not an astrophysicist, but I know a red dwarf star when I see one, and the Enterprise is circling one right now.”

Spock reviewed the events on the bridge again – was it possible his first impressions had been correct? No, the viewscreen and the readouts had been in accord. “My problem remains the same,” he said. “I retain two sets of memories. One is accurate. One is not. I can’t tell which is which.”

“That’s damned peculiar.” McCoy glared down at his medscanner as though it had offended him. “Lie back on the biobed, Mr. Spock. We’re checking you out top to bottom.”

**

Ultimately, Sickbay’s most advanced equipment failed to detect any physical anomalies, despite McCoy’s best efforts and occasional colorful swearing. McCoy finally suggested that Spock simply go to his quarters and rest. “Better safe than sorry,” the doctor said, “and you’d be surprised how many ailments can be cured with a good night’s sleep.”

“If I experience more memory duplication?”

“High-tail it back here and we’ll do what we can for you.” McCoy shook his head, clearly displeased at having to discharge a patient without a firm diagnosis.

“Understood, Doctor.”

Spock made his way through the corridors, testing his memory along the way. That door opened into Jeffries Tube #47; that cabin belonged to Yeoman Fernandez. The young woman passing him was Lieutenant Rajamani; the next hallway led to turbolift B. Everything seemed in order.

When he reached the stretch of corridor that housed the senior staff quarters, Spock once again felt a faint wave of dizziness. He blinked hard, once, and it was gone. The renewal of his symptoms was disconcerting.

So he was gratified to see Nyota walk from the other end of the hallway, clearly heading for her own quarters. She gave him a broad smile unshadowed by their earlier disagreement. “Feeling better?”

“Somewhat.” Her presence reassured him. “We might discuss the matter – over tea, perhaps, if you have time to join me.”

“All the time in the worlds,” she said, but her expression was odd.

“You’re surprised that I asked you?”

Nyota straightened. “A little – but really, I’d enjoy the chance for us to talk.”

She had taken his words that morning too much to heart, Spock realized. He had meant only to request more discreet conduct; Nyota had seen it as a rejection of her expressive nature. Navigating a relationship with a human involved many difficulties, for Nyota as well as for him.

As he brewed a cup of strong Vulcan kal-krath tea, Spock told Nyota of the strange phenomenon he had experienced on the bridge and again in Sickbay. “I’ve never heard of anything like that,” she said, accepting the cup from his hands. He noticed for the first time that she was wearing earrings he had not seen before, green hoops; that was the sort of detail Spock was teaching himself to notice, as it pleased her, but this did not seem to be the time to mention it. “Are you sure it’s due to illness?”

“I’m far from certain of that, but the available facts fit no other pattern.”

“Could it be a property of the star itself?” Nyota sipped her tea thoughtfully. “Some sort of – radiation, or energy wave, that affects Vulcan biochemistry more than humans?”

“I am unaware of any stars with such properties. The idea bears further consideration, however.”

She gained enthusiasm for her theory and set her teacup, the better to gesture as she spoke. “Maybe Admiral Quincy knows something about it. Why – maybe that’s why we’re here doing this weird study in the first place. There could be something strange about this star, something classified. Maybe it’s affected others the same way it’s affecting you.”

“Admiral Quincy?” Spock stared at her as she nodded. “We are studying – a white dwarf star?”

“Of course. Spock, what’s wrong?”

He put his own tea aside. “These are the memories I thought to be false. Doctor McCoy remembered the red dwarf – or I remember him remembering the red dwarf. Still I cannot tell reality from fantasy.” Spock took her hands, squeezing her fingers between his. The coolness of her skin always comforted him. “This feeling – distrusting my own mind – it is profoundly disconcerting, Nyota.”

“I know it must be.” Though her skin, Spock could telepathically sense her shock, no doubt at his weak controls; however, her voice remained even and gentle. “But we’ll get to the bottom of it. We’ll take care of you.”

“Your care is appreciated.” She seemed to be his only constant. Grateful for this, for her, Spock kissed Nyota softly.

Nyota’s entire body went stiff, and she did not kiss him back.

Spock pulled away from her slightly. She stared at him, wide-eyed.

“I – I – Mr. Spock!” Nyota had not used a formal term of address with him in private since well before her graduation from Starfleet Academy. “I don’t know what to say.”

Only one explanation fit this pattern. “You do not remember our romantic relationship?”

“Our WHAT?”

“I will take that as a negative response.” His voice roughened on the words, and he stood upright, unable to bear the proximity to her when it was so clearly unwelcome.

How was this possible? Spock could not be confused about that – it was impossible that he did not care for Nyota, that the relationship they had sustained for nearly six months was only an illusion. He felt more certain of this than he did of any scientific data, or any other fact that he knew. And the denial of this – the absence of her affection – shook him far worse than any other aspect of his condition.

Was Nyota’s mind perhaps affected as well? “Do you recall how we met?”

“We met aboard the Enterprise,” she said. This was untrue. He had served as an instructor at the Academy when she was a student. How could he jar her into remembering the correct sequence of events?

“And – your thesis.” Nyota would remember this; she would remember the months they had worked together to enhance her understanding of Romulan. Then she would remember how close they’d become during that time, until one night when they had finally confessed their mutual affection. “Tell me about your thesis.”

“My thesis?” Her expression was dazed. “I don’t – well – forgive me, Mr. Spock, but what does a study of the Klingon language’s lack of the verb ‘to be’ have to do with what’s going on with you?”

She remembered a different thesis. A different sequence of events. One in which they were never brought together in that way.

And then, just as suddenly, Spock remembered it too.

 _He had advised her on her thesis, become her close friend. They had resisted a relationship before graduation but had promised one another that more would come later. He had desired her so intensely that more than once he considered breaking Academy rules just to touch her sooner: illogical but undeniable._

 _He had not advised her on her thesis. He had become aware of her only when reviewing crew records with Captain Pike in their search for a new communications officer._

 _They had both been assigned to the Enterprise, first at the Battle of Vulcan and then permanently, under the command of James T. Kirk. Their relationship had deepened once they were free of Academy restraints, bringing them closer in every sense._

 _While he had served alongside Christopher Pike, Nyota had been elsewhere, on another world – Eeaiuo, with its felinoid inhabitants. Upon her eventual assignment to the Enterprise, they had become loyal but distant friends, no more._

 _Christopher Pike was in reasonably good health and, thanks to nanotechnological advances, was expected to walk again soon._

 _Christopher Pike had been permanently maimed and crippled. Spock had stolen the Enterprise to save him._

The dual memories crashed into one another, over and over, each one striking him with the force of a blow. Spock felt another rush of dizziness, then of pain.

“Spock!” Nyota cried. He realized that he had fallen. So dazed was he that he had not even felt the impact of the floor. The world spun so terribly that he could not tell up from down.

Through the tidal roar of his confusion, he heard Nyota calling, “Lieutenant Uhura to Sickbay! Emergency!”

And then he could say no more, think no more.

**

Spock awoke in Sickbay to the chirping of the biobed and the sound of conversation.

“There’s got to be something wrong with him,” Jim said. “Vulcans are strong people. They don’t just – collapse in the middle of the day if something isn’t wrong.”

“Even humans don’t collapse in the middle of the day unless something’s wrong,” McCoy snapped. “I realize the man has some serious problem, but whatever it is, it’s not showing up on any tests. Uhura, did he say anything to you that might shed some light?”

“No.” Her voice was closer than the others. “And he’s never done anything like this before.”

Spock opened his eyes to see her standing beside his biobed. She breathed out in relief. “You scared us, mister.”

“I apologize for causing undue concern.”

Jim came to the foot of the bed, grinning. “Spock! Welcome back to the land of the living.”

“Your welcome is kind, though inaccurate, as I have remained alive throughout this experience.” Spock pushed himself up on his elbows and paused. “Correct, Doctor?”

“Correct, but I’m not making any promises for you if you don’t lie back down this second.” McCoy studied the biobed readings again and scowled at them, as though they were consciously refusing to provide him with informative data.

Spock edged himself into a seated position. “As you have no idea as to the nature of my problem, your prescriptions have little merit.”

McCoy opened his mouth to protest, but Nyota shot him a look that silenced him. Spock thought perhaps she could teach him how to accomplish this.

Then he remembered that she was not his – or was she?

The depth of his uncertainty about what was real and was not unsteadied him, and it was with effort that he managed to ask, “May I inquire as to the nature of our current mission?”

His friends all exchanged glances. It was Jim who answered: “We’re conducting a survey of a red dwarf star in the Getax system.”

“A red dwarf,” Spock repeated. “You all concur?” Everybody nodded. “Nyota, please tell me about your thesis at Starfleet Academy.”

“On the ch’Vian dialect of Romulan. You were my advisor.” She spoke very simply, but her voice took on a note that told him she remembered it as he did – as the genesis of their feelings for one another. This was a relief.

He said, “These are the memories that my mind accepts as valid. But I remember another series of events as well – less concretely than these, but in astonishing detail. I believe that I am ‘remembering’ a time some years ahead of our own.”

“You’re moving forward in time?” Nyota said. “You’re seeing the future?”

“No. It is a true alternate timeline.”

“Well, you and I both know one way you might have experienced that,” Jim said.

Spock shook his head. “No, Captain. It was you who experienced the mind-meld with my – predecessor.” It was a measure of their developing friendship that Jim had felt able to share the information about the meld with Spock, and that Spock had been able to hear it with equanimity. “You alone could possess any concrete memories of his life in his timeline.”

Nyota’s gaze became distant, as it often did when she was concentrating. “Still, though, isn’t it logical that the alternate reality you’re experiencing would be his reality?”

“It is possible, but not necessary. We do not even have enough information to say that it is probable.”

“We do have one more piece of information that might be useful,” Jim said. “While you were unconscious, we wondered if maybe you were confusing our current mission with some past assignment. We sent word to Starfleet Science General, to Admiral Quincy, to see if we could get any insight.”

“And what did you discover?” Spock was genuinely curious.

Nyota said, “Turns out there is no Admiral Quincy, not in Science General or anywhere else in Command. Nobody named Quincy in Starfleet at all, as a matter of fact.”

“Curious.” Spock slid his feet off the biobed. “More study is indicated.”

“And where do you think you’re going?” McCoy demanded.

“To my quarters. I realize that returning to duty so soon after an episode of unconsciousness is unadvisable, but as Dr. McCoy can provide no further treatment here, I would prefer to rest and research this issue privately.”

McCoy shook his head. “No way am I letting you wander off on your own.”

“He won’t be on his own.” Nyota took Spock’s arm to assist him from the biobed, which was unnecessary but pleasing.

“I don’t like it,” McCoy said, but Jim clapped him on the shoulder.

“Bones, let him go. Coop Spock up in here, and he’ll only get worse. Besides, Uhura can keep an eye on him.”

“It’s on your head,” McCoy replied. Spock took this as affirmation that he could leave.

**

“What about this?” Nyota handed Spock her PADD; he laid his between them on the bed so that he could take it for a closer look. “Thirty years ago on the first _Intrepid._ Several Vulcan crew members experienced ‘extraneous memory,’ whatever that means, after a shipboard explosion that killed several people.”

“That is an unrelated matter, one connected to Vulcan death rituals.” Spock hesitated; they would eventually need to discuss the katra, but at a more opportune moment. “We can speak of those later. For now, it’s sufficient to say that this isn’t what is affecting me.”

“Damn.” She rubbed at her temples. “Seemed like a promising lead, too.”

“We’ll continue to search, but later, when you are rested.”

“Me? You’re the one in trouble.”

Spock allowed himself to smile slightly for her. “At this time, I am as untroubled as it is possible to be.”

They each wore faded Starfleet Academy T-shirts; Spock wore pajama pants as well, in deference to the Earthlike temperature in her room. Her hair was tucked into a couple of uneven tails, all traces of her usual polish gone. On the table beside the bed was an empty bowl that had held plomeek soup she’d coaxed from the replicators for him.

Vulcan households had been formal. Even his mother, emotional as she was, had maintained strict order at home so as to conform to her new planet’s social mores. Spock did not think he could ever adequately express how pleasurable it was for him to be with Nyota and simply relax. Which was of course a relative term – Spock still sat upright against the headboard, unwilling to slouch down in the pillows as she did – but he felt the difference, even if it could not be seen.

Nyota stretched languidly and turned on her side, one hand propping up her head. “You’ve been okay for a few hours now. Maybe it’s passed.”

“Perhaps.” There was no reason to believe this, and yet no reason not to. “Let us hope so.”

“Hey, back in Sickbay, you asked me about my thesis. Why?”

“In the alternate timeline, you chose a different topic for your thesis at the Academy.”

“Why were you talking to me about my thesis?”

“Consider the fuller implications, Nyota. In the other timeline, we did not become better acquainted during that time, and our present connection was never formed.”

She frowned. “Are you saying we weren’t together?”

“We were not.”

“At all? Ever?” Nyota considered this for a few moments, her expression dark. “I don’t think I like that other timeline.”

“Nor I.”

“How did you realize this? Was I with someone else?” Her eyes widened. “Tell me it wasn’t Kirk. Tell me anything else. Anybody else. I mean, I’d follow that man to the edge of a black hole and back, but --”

“I wouldn’t know about your counterpart’s romantic life,” Spock said. The idea had not previously occurred to him, and he found he did not wish to dwell on the matter. “Only that I was not a part of it. I realized the truth when I kissed her and found this to be both unwelcome and unexpected.”

Nyota smiled a bit at that, but ruefully. “Your turn to spring an unwelcome kiss on someone, I guess.”

“You refer to our conversation this morning.” Spock brushed his hand against hers. “I didn’t mean to suggest that your affection was unwelcome. That is far from the truth.”

“You just want me to be more discreet about it. More Vulcan.” She sat up so that they were face to face. “I get it. I do. Interspecies relationships – you have to adapt, that’s what everybody says, and it’s true.”

“It is unjust for me to expect that all the alterations should be to your conduct, rather than to mine,” Spock said. “In this matter as much as any other.”

They considered this for a few moments, until a small smile began to dawn on her face. “So we meet in the middle,” she said. “I’ll do my best to keep the physical affection private, but if I ever get carried away, or really feel like I need a moment with you –“

“—I will trust that the cause is sufficient.”

They kissed once, swift and sweet. Then she leaned closer and their lips met again, slower this time. Spock breathed in the scent of her as his hands slid around her waist. His fingertips traced the line of bare skin just beneath the hem of her T-shirt.

Their lips parted. Nyota leaned her forehead against his, so close that their mouths nearly touched. “So, how are you feeling?”

“More energetic than before.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Significantly more energetic.”

She laughed until he silenced her with another kiss.

**

Spock awoke with a jolt. At first he thought that he had been dreaming – as if he had been startled awake – but the true reason quickly became apparent.

He lay in his bed, not Nyota’s, and he was fully clothed in sleepwear. A few subtle differences in the room were sufficient to confirm that this was, indeed, the altered timeline. He had shifted universes again, and even in sleep had felt the transition.

Quickly he went to the terminal and asked, “Computer, state the time and the ship’s current mission.”

 _“Time is oh-six hundred. Mission: a study of the white dwarf star of the Holicron system, under the supervision of Admiral Quincy.”_

“My status?”

 _“Temporarily relieved from duty under orders of Doctor McCoy.”_

Spock considered this, then quickly dressed. Within a few minutes he walked down the corridors of the ship on his way to the guest quarters suggested by what fragmented memories of this timeline he possessed. He passed only one person he knew, Mr. Scott, who said, “Did you feel that thump too? Gamma shift says they can check it out themselves, but I want to look at it personally. Anything that wakes me up from a dream about the loveliest lass you ever saw – well, I mean to take care of it.”

“Indeed.” So, there had been some external jolt that awakened him? Spock wondered if it was an unrelated phenomenon, or whether the time shifts affecting him were beginning to affect the ship as well. If so, that development was troubling, to say the least.

When he reached the guest quarters, he pressed his palm against the door for entry; within a few seconds, the doors slid open to reveal Admiral Quincy, a human male with pale skin and dark hair, wearing a fairly ornate dressing gown and staring at a halved grapefruit on a tray with distaste.

“This is your ship’s idea of a good breakfast?” the admiral said, instead of hello. “Pathetic.”

“Admiral Quincy, I wish to have a word.”

“Yes, Mr. Spock? I had understood you were no longer part of the study. Health reasons, something like that.”

“I have been experiencing shifts between two different timelines,” Spock said. “Despite the profundities of the differences between each history, the timelines are more alike than unalike. The same officers serve aboard the Enterprise; our missions are only slightly different. In fact, there is only one main point of divergence.”

This revelation did not faze the admiral in the slightest. “How very – what’s that word you like? Ah, yes. Fascinating.”

“The main point of divergence – is you. In the other timeline, we have ascertained that there is no Admiral Quincy in Starfleet. If I were to investigate the matter in this timeline, I believe I would make the same discovery. Therefore it is logical to surmise that your role in this matter differs from anyone else’s – and that you may in fact be the cause of the present disturbance. Now, please tell me who, or what, you truly are.”

“They said you were clever for a hominid.” The admiral – or the being masquerading as an admiral – smiled toothily as he rose from his chair. “Well done, Mr. Spock! From now on, you might as well just shorten my name to [**Q**.](http://memory-alpha.org/en/wiki/Q) That part at least is accurate.”

“Q?”

“Of the Q Continuum, a host of beings with powers and understanding far beyond your mortal ken.” Q said this with a flourish, as though his words would be more impressive that his statement.

“Do you provide any evidence of these abilities?”

Q looked offended. “I would have thought jumping timelines evidence enough. But you punier beings, you want fireworks, don’t you? A bit of show. Very well.” He clapped his hands together. “Behold!”

Spock started. Instead of the guest quarters of the _Enterprise_ , they stood on the walkway of a bridge – the Golden Gate Bridge, which he remembered well. Before them the bay shimmered in early morning light, and on the bank was Starfleet Academy. The smell and taste of the air was familiar, as was the humming of hovercraft over the bridge and the bluish lights of a shuttle’s engines as it sped through the sky toward the academy’s hangar. A cool breeze ruffled his hair.

“A human would probably be feeling nostalgic right around now.” Q still wore the elaborate bathrobe, though he turned its thickly padded collar up against the San Francisco morning chill. “What about you, Mr. Spock? Does this remind you of your favorite moments from your school days? What am I saying? For you, that’s probably the hardest equations you ever solved on exams.”

“This could be an elaborate illusion.”

“Could be,” Q agreed. “Why don’t we walk over to Starfleet Command and see? You can call the Enterprise from there. Imagine their astonishment.”

“That is unnecessary. Even if this is an illusion, it is one of such thoroughness and accuracy as to demonstrate your considerable powers.”

“That’s a little more like it.” Q clapped his hands again, and instantly they were back in the guest quarters. He took his seat once more, settling his napkin in his lap. “Back where we began.”

“This isn’t where I began,” Spock pointed out. “If you are aboard the Enterprise, then this is the other timeline.”

“Do forgive me for taking you on this little sojourn. But you see, my half-Vulcan friend, I mean it as a kindness – and I perform kindnesses for very few individuals.”

“I would consider it a greater kindness to be returned to my correct timeline immediately, with no further interruptions of this nature.”

“So quick to answer! So slow to investigate the kaleidoscope of possibility I’ve laid before you! And I thought you called yourself a scientist.”

It was the one argument capable of making Spock hesitate. After a moment, he said, “You realize that I must report your true nature to the captain.”

“You can tell him until smoke billows from your pointy ears, and it won’t do a bit of good.” Q jabbed at the grapefruit half with his spoon, grimaced and gave up. “Your captain believes in Admiral Quincy. Your crewmates believe in Admiral Quincy. The computer. Starfleet Command. Everyone – including you, until recently, and if I wanted you to believe in Admiral Quincy again, I could do it as easily as snapping my fingers.”

This did not appear to be a bluff. Spock resigned himself to dealing with the Q entity on his terms, at least for the time being. “As you have not snapped your fingers, I take it that you wish to reveal further information to me. Please do so.”

Q folded his arms. “Mr. Personality, aren’t you?”

Spock did not deign to reply.

“Very well. We’ll handle this logically, just for you. I am offering you the rarest of choices, Spock. You have the opportunity to see two different lives you might have led – and to pick which one you would prefer. How many mortals have dreamed and wept and prayed for such a chance? And it falls to you, possibly the being in the universe least likely to dream, weep or pray. Funny how that works.”

“Such choices are spoken of in legends –“

“Now, there’s a romantic streak at last. I knew you had it in you!”

“—and such legends rarely end well.”

“You’re not a man to be swayed by myth and superstition. Of that I feel quite sure.”

One question Nyota had asked the day before came to mind. “Is this in fact the life experience led by my predecessor?” If Q was indeed a godlike being, he would require no further explanation.

He did not. “One and the same. But don’t worry – I’m not setting you into an infinite causality loop to run over and over identical events like a hamster in a wheel. What a bore that would be. From now on, Spock, you can make your own choices. Blend the best of what’s old and what’s new, or go off in another direction entirely. The luxury of infinite experience and nearly infinite life: Think of it! It’s all yours to choose.”

“Then I choose to be returned to my original timeline immediately.”

Q was not amused. “I insist that you take this timeline out for a test drive, so to speak. Take a few turns. Kick the tires.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“A reference from another century, I see. Your lifespans pass so quickly.”

“What has motivated you to offer me this choice?”

“Mortals are so amusing when they’re trying to control their own destinies. I’ve found I enjoy presenting them with, shall we say, unique challenges. Call it a hobby.” Q rose from his chair and stepped closer, almost intrusively so. “Besides, this was the perfect time. You see, the white dwarf and red dwarf have more in common than your feeble three-dimensional instruments could ever measure. The likenesses between the stars and the missions allowed me to build a bridge between the two timelines. Already that bridge has begun to shake – much like the Golden Gate, during one of those quakes the San Andreas stabilizers can’t quite iron out. Tonight, when each star experiences flare activity, the bridge will collapse. Then and only then can you choose which side of the divide you’ll stand upon.”

Spock resigned himself. “I shall wait until this evening.”

“Don’t wait. Investigate.” Q’s eyes twinkled in a fashion that, for humans, would have been merry; in his case, it was somewhat alarming. “Discover everything this timeline has to offer that the other doesn’t. Your memory here is still rather patchwork, you know – many important facts haven’t occurred to you yet.”

“Explain.”

“I don’t take orders from mortals.” Q gestured toward the door of the guest quarters, which opened as though someone had stepped close. “Go, Mr. Spock. Shoo. Spend a little quality time finding out exactly where you are. And keep in mind one very important lesson, from an old-style drama of one of your homeworlds, a remarkably appealing one as such things go – _there’s no place like home_.”

**

A human might have pleaded for more information, or shouted at Q for his manipulative behavior, or otherwise extended the interview. Spock simply left.

As he walked through the corridors, his first thought was for the safety of the ship. A godlike being surely would not be content with tormenting one person with memories of a destroyed world; Q’s agenda was likely to be more ambitious.

Then Spock stopped, mid-stride.

A destroyed world. Vulcan had been destroyed. He would remember the sight of it until the day of his death; it was a horror too great to erase.

And yet in this universe – in this timestream –

Spock hurried to his quarters and pressed the communications panel on his personal computer console. “Commander Spock to Lieutenant Uhura.”

She responded within seconds. “Uhura here, Commander.” Her voice sounded somewhat odd – as well it might, with Spock calling her early in the morning, in her quarters, the day after having made a rather unwelcome pass at her.

Spock shared her discomfort, but more important matters were at hand. “Lieutenant, I need you to open a personal subspace link between me and –“ He could not even dare to say it, lest he be wrong. Instead he managed to say, “My father’s home.”

“Aye-aye, sir.”

Within a few moments, the small screen on his console began to blink. An image wavered, shuddered, and took the form of a face.

His mother’s face.

“Spock!” Amanda smiled. Her hair was more silvery than it had been, her face slightly older. “What a delightful surprise. I hope everything is well with you?”

His throat was too tight to speak. Spock simply nodded.

“Is the _Enterprise_ coming to Vulcan? I bet that’s your big news.”

“No, Mother.” The words were almost a croak. “We are – we are studying a star. A white dwarf.”

“You seem troubled.” Her voice gentled. “What’s wrong?”

So she had spoken to him when he was a boy, coming home from long days at school when the other children shunned and mocked him. Spock could remember her cool kiss upon his forehead and a welcoming bowl of plomeek soup. All this he had thought was lost to him – and yet she was here, alive and well along with his entire world.

 _I could return to Vulcan,_ Spock thought, and the surge of longing this awakened in him was almost overwhelming. _I can go home._

“Spock?”

“Forgive me, Mother. It is only that – I have missed you.”

“Is that really the only reason you called?”

Spock nodded again. Behind her he could see the familiar shapes and shades of his childhood home; the warm light from the distant window was that of Vulcan’s sun.

“My goodness.” Amanda’s smile was rueful. “I shouldn’t be as pleased as I am about that.”

She was happy for this small gesture because he had so rarely told her that he missed her, or cared about her, or given her any human emotion. Because he had failed her, as the son of a human woman. Before Vulcan restraint could master the extraordinary moment, Spock blurted, “I love you very much, Mother.”

She stopped smiling. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong.”

“I want you to come home for a visit soon. You and your father – well, ever since the Babel conference, there’s no more need for that to stop you.” Amanda radiated concern through the subspace channel, through the screens, though space itself. “I’d like to have my family around me once more.”

“I will come during my next leave,” he promised. “I will stay as long as possible.”

“You’re sure you’re all right?”

“Yes. It is just that I’ve been too long from home.”

Amanda sighed, clearly sensing that there was more to the story but also clearly unwilling to push further. She said only, “I love you too, my son.”

Her hand rose in the Vulcan salute, and the signal blinked out.

Spock pressed his hand against the blank viewscreen – a foolish, illogical thing to do, and yet he could not have done otherwise.

Now he understood what Q had meant by opportunity. Spock had been given more than the chance to lead another life; he had been given the chance to resurrect Vulcan itself.

The ship shuddered violently, so much so that Spock first thought they had suffered a phaser hit. Then dizziness swept through him, more painful and overwhelming than before, and he cried out hoarsely as he grabbed for the computer console –

“Spock!”

He opened his eyes to see Nyota’s face above his. She knelt on the floor of her quarters in her robe, next to where he lay sprawled in his uniform. A yellow alert light flashed a staccato rhythm, and he could see that several items had fallen from her shelves. “Tell me what has happened,” he said, surprised to hear his voice so weak.

“You shifted timelines again?”

“Yes. Please, Nyota, tell me what has happened.”

“After you get to Sickbay.”

“Now,” Spock insisted, taking her hand. “It is important.”

She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, collecting herself as a Vulcan would. “Okay. What’s the last thing you remember – from this timeline, I mean?”

“Falling asleep beside you.” This was no more than fact, but Spock found himself contrasting this with waking up alone.

“We slept until oh-six hundred, when we had the first – jolt, energy wave, I don’t know what. It shook the ship pretty violently. But the bridge told us it seemed to have passed, and we went back to sleep. Then we got up an hour later as usual, got ready for duty, until this jolt happened again, and you fell.” Her face was tight. “You don’t remember any of that?”

“No. I remember being in the other timeline. And the trauma to the ship is related to my shifting back and forth.”

“This is bad.” Nyota slid one of her arms beneath his shoulders to help him up. “You need to explain this to the captain, and Scotty, too.”

“To all of you,” Spock said. It was worse than she knew.

Q had given him a choice – and the choice was clear.

**

“So let me see if I have this straight,” Jim said, as the other senior officers sat around the conference room table – Scott, Sulu, McCoy, Spock himself and, slightly apart from the rest, Nyota. “There’s this godlike being called Q –“

“Damned stupid name,” McCoy huffed.

“—who is giving you a choice between two timelines. The one the older Spock lived, and this one.”

“Affirmative, Captain. In the other timeline, Vulcan still exists, as does Romulus. Given my advance warning of both the supernova in the Romulus system and Captain Nero’s rogue tendencies, it seems likely that, by moving into the other timeline with my memory intact, I would have the opportunity to save two worlds from annihilation.”

Sulu said, “I don’t understand why you’re supposed to choose between two timelines, when quantum physics suggests you would simply create a third timeline, independent of the others.”

“I cannot pretend to fully grasp the implications,” Spock admitted. “This would be an excellent subject for study.”

“Study? How can you think about studying at a time like this?” There were times when Dr. McCoy could look almost wild.

Spock continued, “Q suggests that my choice would have pan-universal implications, either all but removing my influence from the original timeline, or ending this timeline altogether.”

“You have to choose the other timeline,” Nyota said. Her bearing and poise would have been the master of many a Vulcan in a similarly painful situation. “It’s obvious.”

“Obvious to you, maybe.” McCoy’s hands were braced against the table. He was not the only one who looked uneasy; Sulu gripped the armrests of his chair as though he thought he might be flung to the floor at any second. “If you go back and stop any of that from happening, what exactly happens to all of us?”

“Each of you exists in the other timeline, Doctor McCoy. You even hold the same positions aboard the ship.”

“Make excuses all you like, Spock, but you know as well as I do, that Leonard McCoy isn’t me. That James Kirk isn’t Jim. Dammit, even that Lieutenant Uhura isn’t your Nyota. If that doesn’t affect you, you’re even colder than I thought.”

Spock finally allowed his gaze to meet Nyota’s; despite her control, there was no mistaking the pain in her eyes. “It affects me profoundly, Doctor,” he said, his voice low. “But this does not change what I must do.”

“No,” Jim said, his voice steady and sure. “It doesn’t. Bones, if we could have saved Vulcan by sacrificing the _Enterprise_ with all hands aboard, we would’ve done it. Right? As I look at it, this is pretty much the same thing.”

“I know that,” McCoy said gruffly. “Don’t you think I know that? But it’s a hell of a thing, wondering if you’re just going to be – snuffed out like a candle.”

Scotty sighed. “I hate existential crises,” he confided easily. “They trouble the digestion. Best avoided. So let’s talk hard facts here, as in, what the devil are your timeline shifts doing to my ship?”

“I’m at a loss to explain the phenomenon,” Spock said. “Without knowing more about how the Q entity has constructed a bridge between the two timelines, I cannot be sure why my transference has this effect.”

“Well, we’d best find out,” Scott said. “Because that last bump played havoc with the integrity field. Much more of that, and we’ll be looking at serious trouble.”

McCoy said, “How does that count as more ‘serious trouble’ than vanishing from existence altogether?”

“Doubt we’d notice that,” Scott retorted. “Exploding into a billion pieces? Trust me, you’d notice.”

Sulu leaned back heavily in his chair. “This whole situation is making me redefine my concept of ‘the bright side.’”

Jim remained focused on Spock. “Are the shifts in time predictable? Occurring for specific reasons, after a given amount of time, anything?”

“No, Captain. I can give no warning. The bad news is that the jolts are likely to become more severe before the end.” Spock could hear Scott muttering something under his breath but chose to ignore it. “The good news, if it can be termed as such, is that the point of decision will arrive tonight. If the timeline shifts do not become markedly more frequent, I predict that I will only change over on a handful of occasions more before I –“ His voice trailed off, as he had no idea what to say.

Sulu quietly said, “You don’t know that the other timeline is better than this one. For all we know, Starfleet could still be at war with the Romulans in that universe. Or the people we are in this timeline are better officers than the ones before, because we were tested so soon. We might have a chance to do more good, make a bigger difference.”

“There’s no war with the Romulans,” Jim said. When everyone stared at him, he said, “I don’t remember much from the mind-meld, and what I do remember is mostly pretty mixed-up but – no Romulan war. And let’s face it: It would take a hell of a lot to make up for the loss of two worlds.”

“So you’re just rolling over and playing dead?” McCoy demanded. “Doesn’t sound much like the Jim Kirk I know. Did Q bring you over too?”

“Bones, I don’t like handing our fates over to some would-be god on just his say-so. But we don’t have a lot of choice. Uhura’s right. There’s only one choice for Spock to make. We have to have the courage to face it.”

The silence in the room weighed heavily upon them all until Jim added, “Dismissed. Everyone, take ten minutes before returning to your stations, if you need it.”

“No thanks, Captain.” Sulu was already headed for the door. “I’d rather keep my mind on your work.”

“As you like.” Jim paused, and for a moment his youth and uncertainty were more visible than they had been, in Spock’s experience, since the moment he had first been challenged about cheating on the _Kobayashi Maru_ exam. But in an instant, Jim had shaken it off and strode confidently toward the door, putting one arm around McCoy’s shoulders in solidarity. Within a few seconds, the only people remaining in the conference room were Spock and Nyota.

She rose from her chair but did not move to leave; her hands remained gripped around the headrest, as if she were attempting to steady herself. Spock went to her. There seemed to be nothing possible to say, save the obvious: “Nyota, I’m sorry.”

“You shouldn’t be. You have a chance to save billions of lives.” Her face crumpled, a flash of pure pain, before she regained her composure. “I keep telling myself that it won’t be the same as dying. But it’s worse than that. I’ll never even have lived.”

“You live. I have seen you, here, aboard the _Enterprise_.”

“But I’m not the same, am I? We only know about the one difference, about you and me not being together – but that’s hard enough, and there’s no telling what else might be changed. What parts of my life – of myself – are about to blink out of existence forever.”

Spock could not console her, not when she was so clearly focused upon the hard truth. He, too, found himself thinking of moments between them that he cherished. They would vanish into mere memory, unshared and therefore lonely. Strange to think of them so, the experiences that had first taught him that he need not always be lonely.

Her eyes were bright as she looked up at him. “Tell the other me about the day we saw the sequoias.” She spread her hands against his chest, as she had touched the tree long ago. “And tell me about the day we went to the music festival in Nairobi.”

“Nyota –“

“I need you to listen. Tell me about the day my mom made commander – how we all came to the ceremony.” At first Spock did not understand, but Nyota said, “She enlisted after the Kelvin massacre. In the other timeline, I don’t know if she went into Starfleet at all. And I want somebody to know how proud we were – how hard she worked.” Closing her eyes tightly, she added, “Remember what we had. Remember us.”

Spock would have promised her, had she not pulled him down into a kiss. They embraced for only a moment before Nyota broke free and pushed blindly toward the door. Although he wanted to follow her, he knew it would be a kindness to let her go.

Forcefully he reminded himself that the needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few. Countless Vulcans would be saved, not to mention countless more Romulans, and the entire cadet class of Starfleet Academy that had been all but obliterated at the Battle of Vulcan. Nero himself, with his wife and unborn child, a point upon which Spock attempted to feel some measure of sympathy. Jim Kirk’s father. His own mother.

 _It is worthwhile,_ Spock told himself. _It must be._

Then the ship jolted yet again, turning side over side, and the sound of tearing metal screamed through Spock’s mind. He grasped for purchase, clutching the side of a chair and fighting back waves of nausea that threatened to steal his consciousness from him. Shouts of alarm echoed throughout the room –

Who was shouting?

“We can’t take much more of this!” Scott cried. Spock stared at him – and at the rest of the senior officers, who were once again seated at the conference room table. No, not again, he reminded himself; in this reality, the briefing was not yet over.

“Sulu, head to the bridge. I want a steady hand at the helm,” Jim ordered. This man’s face held no hint of uncertainty, not even now. “Scotty, see if you can find out exactly what kind of disruption we’re dealing with here.”

“I can explain, Captain,” Spock said. His legs felt weak and watery, and he realized that he was leaning on the chair so heavily that he might have fallen without it.

“Spock?” Nyota paused at his side. “Are you all right?” Her concern for him, heartfelt as it seemed to be, was only a fraction of what it would have been before.

Then another voice said, “Captain Kirk, do all your officers stagger about drunkenly while on duty?”

Spock’s head snapped up to see Q, in full admiral’s regalia, sitting at the far end of the table. When their eyes met, Q tsked and shook his head.

“My first officer is certainly not drunk.” Annoyance grated in Jim’s voice, and Spock felt sure that another bout of insubordination would soon begin. But this version, he recalled, was a more controlled man. Jim said only, “Admiral Quincy, as we informed you last evening, Mr. Spock is unwell. Whatever odd phenomenon this ship is experiencing seems to be having a greater impact on him than on anyone else.”

Q folded his hands under his chin, deliberately coy. “Sounds just awful. Why could that be?”

Spock intended to explain – first, simply because it was his nature to accurately answer a question if he could, and then because he felt the very human desire to stop Q from smirking at his distress. But he found he could not say the words. He could not even open his mouth. Q’s power was too vast to be broached.

“You should rest,” Nyota said. “Doctor, don’t you agree?”

“I most certainly do.” McCoy folded his arms. “Sickbay or your quarters, Mr. Spock. You make the call.”

“My quarters.” When he was not attempting to thwart Q, Spock found, he could speak perfectly well. “If you will excuse me, gentlemen.”

Nyota insisted, “I’ll walk you there. With the captain’s permission, of course.”

“By all means.” Jim’s mind was already elsewhere, no doubt on the unseen danger threatening his ship. As Spock walked out, he was all too conscious of Q’s mocking stare following his every move. For a being who claimed to offer vast opportunities out of pure kindness, Q took too much pleasure in other creatures’ pain.

He and Nyota walked together in silence. Someday, Spock knew, he would need to keep his promise to his Nyota. Later – when he had healed from the loss, when she was no longer disconcerted by their unfortunate encounter -- then perhaps he could bear to speak of the lost timeline. But at that moment, he could only feel the gulf between what had been and what was.

Spock had always known that he would never fully be the same after the destruction of Vulcan – and this would remain true in this timeline as well. Not even standing on Vulcan’s sands again would completely resolve the anguish he had known then. Nor would he ever be the same after leaving the timeline he was born into, the timeline in which he had loved Nyota. It seemed to him that he was destined to bear the scars of both timelines, ever and always.

When they reached the door of his quarters, Spock expected Nyota to leave him, but she walked inside as well. “Lie down,” she said firmly. “I’ll get you some tea.”

Spock settled himself on the bed, now unable to relax in her presence but too exhausted to ignore the wisdom of her suggestion to lie down. Vulcan levels of strength and endurance were higher than those of humans, but the timeline-shifting was taking a toll.

“Here you go,” Nyota said. She took a seat near the bed, apparently to watch him drink it as if he were a small child who might spit out his medicine.

Silence between them now would be – awkward. Spock decided to clarify a few points that, while irrelevant, piqued his curiosity. “Can you tell me what has happened in this timeline since I collapsed on the floor of my quarters last afternoon? I have been unable to construct a solid sequence of events.”

“We took you to Sickbay. When you awoke, you had no memory of any alternate timeline switches, but otherwise, you were your usual self.” She hesitated. “I didn’t mention anything – private that you shared with me.”

There was only one such subject. “Thank you.”

“You returned to your quarters afterward to sleep. Then, this morning, you asked me for an open channel to Vulcan. I didn’t see or hear from you again until Captain Kirk called the meeting to discuss the effect your timeline shifts were having on the ship. That’s all I know – all there is, I think.” After a brief pause, Nyota said, “I’m sorry, I just have to ask – really? You and me?”

Spock shut his eyes for a moment. “Our relationship, as I experienced it, had lasted for approximately six months. We had shared a close friendship for some time prior.”

“I didn’t think Vulcans were drawn to human women.”

“I believe that you have met my father.” Spock raised an eyebrow. “And my mother.”

“Point taken, Mr. Spock.” The corner of her mouth twitched – not quite a smile, but almost. He realized that she had begun considering the idea of a relationship between the two of them, and while it still seemed to be a strange concept to her, it was not one that she disliked.

This development bore further consideration.

He finished his tea and set it on the bedside table; still she stayed. He said, “I never apologized to you for yesterday’s misunderstanding. My behavior was presumptuous.”

“That’s not necessary. I admit, at first I was taken aback, but when I realized what you honestly thought was going on between us – well, no offense taken. Truly.” Her eyes were lowered, until she glanced up at him, just for a second. “And if my reaction made you think that I found the idea, shall we say, _strange_ , I apologize. I didn’t mean to suggest that at all.”

Spock had been involved with Nyota long enough to know an invitation when he heard one. “Would you be willing to share a private dinner with me at some point in the future?”

Nyota paused, and he wondered if he had pushed her too hard, too soon. But then she lifted her chin and looked back at him steadily. “I think that would be lovely.”

“Thank you,” he said. “In a few weeks, perhaps.”

“Perhaps.” She rose from her chair. “For now, I’m leaving you to get some rest. So you rest, now. Hear me?”

“Affirmative.”

As Nyota left his quarters, Spock settled back onto the bed, unsure of his own reaction to what had just occurred. On one level, pursuing this Nyota so soon after the loss of his Nyota seemed wrong; whatever he found here would not replace the relationship he had known before, and he was aware of an illogical, human desire for comfort that could not be allowed to dictate his actions.

And yet this was Nyota, in so many ways. His Nyota had told him to share the truth of her life and their relationship with her. If they did become involved eventually, he could do more than tell her; he could meld with her, share the memories of those times together as vividly as if she had been there. It was in some ways the truest way to let his Nyota live again.

But Nyota – any version of her – deserved more than to be used as a crutch for the life of another.

The moral implications twisted over and upon themselves, forming an ethical Mobius strip. Spock decided to consider the question more fully later, when he was more objective. At the moment, two emotions threatened to gain dominance over logic: grief and hope. Grief for that which he had lost when choosing this timeline. Hope that here he could repair those losses, winning back what had been stolen: his mother, his homeworld and Nyota.

If he could, then much of his reluctance was for nothing. There would truly be no reason to choose “his” timeline.

No reason.

None.

Spock sat upright. Logic regained dominance in his mind, clarifying that which had been clouded. Within a few moments, the Mobius strip had come undone, and Spock knew what he must do next.

He rose from his bed; a queasy sensation surged in his gut, but Spock ignored this. Within a few steps he was at his door, where he straightened his uniform tunic before walking into the corridors, heading straight for the guest quarters of “Admiral Quincy.”

Within a few steps, Spock felt the ship begin to shudder again. As various crewmembers shouted in surprise or fear, he tried to brace himself against the wall. It seemed to him that he heard tearing metal, but then he realized the sound was only in his head, deafening, excruciating –

“Mr. Spock?”

He opened his eyes. Apparently he had collapsed upon the floor; Chekov knelt above him, silhouetted in the flashing yellow alert lights. “Ensign,” Spock croaked. “Report.”

“Sir, you must go to Sickbay. Come, I will walk you. Or should we beam you there?”

“That will be unnecessary.” Spock sat up and held himself very still, so as not to betray the sickening wave of dizziness that washed over him. “Now, report. Ship’s status?”

Chekov looked wary, but he would not disobey an order. “Another of those mysterious waves has hit us. All hands are to report to stations, but I have time to go with you to Sickbay.”

Spock attempted to push himself upright, but his strength failed him. He could perceive, now, that the toll the switches took on him was more mental than physical – that his mind had to reset in order to communicate with each universe’s body. His ability to do so had been taxed nearly to the limit.

 _If this phenomenon continues much longer,_ Spock mused, _Q’s offer will prove to have been purely academic. This seems an unlikely premise. Therefore, the stars’ flare activity will begin soon._

“Mr. Chekov,” he said, “take me to the bridge.”

“But, sir! You are not well, and Dr. McCoy has relieved you of duty.”

“I do not intend to take my position at the science station. Nevertheless, I must go to the bridge.”

Chekov hesitated a moment, torn between common sense and obedience. Spock could not bring himself to wish that obedience would win.

“Ensign,” he said, more gently, “I cannot explain my purposes yet, but they relate to the disturbances affecting the ship.”

“Yes, sir.” Chekov paused before adding, “May I assist you, as I am going there myself?”

“That would be prudent.”

Spock allowed Chekov to pull his arm over Chekov’s shoulders, and together they made their way to the turbolift. Just before they reached the bridge, Spock stepped away and straightened himself. When the doors opened, they walked out together.

As Chekov hurried to his post, Spock stepped only far enough onto the bridge to get a good look at the viewscreen. The red dwarf star seethed amid the blackness of space, its surface roiling.

Next to him, he heard a small gasp that he recognized as Nyota’s. He glanced at her and almost wished he had not. Her eyes were red, her features drawn. She was resolute – ready to meet her end – and that was more difficult for him to witness than tears or fright could ever have been.

“Spock.” Jim rose from his chair. “Are we nearing – the deadline?”

“Yes, Captain. I believe that we are.”

On the viewscreen, the star’s surface buckled and writhed, and a crimson flare shot up from the surface in a spectacular arc. As Spock watched, another wave of dizziness washing over him, the flare altered shape and shade to the paler glow of the white dwarf star.

Spock sagged against the side of Nyota’s console, but he did not look at her. He turned to the center of the bridge, where, next to Captain Kirk, stood Q.

“Mr. Spock,” Q said. “So delighted you could join us.”

“I doubt that your reaction will remain positive,” Spock replied.

Jim looked confused – this version of the captain had no idea what “Admiral Quincy” truly was. Neither Q nor Spock paid him any mind. Q took a few steps forward, saying only, “It’s time, Spock. Time for you to make your choice.”

“No, Q. You believe that it is time for me to make _your_ choice, and I will not.”

Q’s countenance darkened. “I beg your pardon?”

“Your gambit relied on emotional considerations overriding my ability to make a logical decision,” Spock said. “At first, I admit, your manipulation succeeded. But I have had time to reconsider.”

“Reconsider?” Q held out his arms. “What is there to reconsider? You get your home back. Your world.”

“Admiral Quincy, Mr. Spock, what’s going on here?” Jim demanded.

Q snapped his fingers. A bright flash of light, and then all the bridge crew were frozen in their places. Sulu’s hands hovered over his controls. Nyota stared at the red alert lights, her hand at the auditory enhancer in her ear, as Jim scowled with hands only half-balled into fists. Q said, “No worries; when I leave, they’ll be right as rain. You can start your life over, Spock. Go to Vulcan. Court the comely Lieutenant Uhura and fall in –disinterested appreciation all over again.”

“I could indeed take all those actions.” Spock steepled his hands. “I could, as you suggested, synthesize the best of my existence in each universe. The prospect is a compelling one on many levels. So compelling, in fact, that there would be no logical reason not to choose the universe in which Vulcan still exists.”

“But of course!”

“There is no ‘of course’ when it comes to your behavior, Q. Your stated motive for presenting me with this choice was amusement – to see what I would do. However, as both emotion and logic lead to the same choice in this situation, there could be no real question which universe I would pick. Therefore, your true motive was not to enjoy the nonexistent suspense of my decision. Your true motive was to persuade me to choose this universe without questioning the alternatives.”

Q stared at him for a few long seconds. For the first time in their acquaintance, the too-knowing smirk had faded. Quietly, he repeated, “They said you were clever for a hominid.”

Spock continued, “You assumed the role of Admiral Quincy in this universe. You never appeared in the other. Thus it is logical to infer that your powers are more limited in the second universe – the one ‘reset’ by Captain Nero’s journey through time. Given that the other traveler through time was this universe’s elder version of myself, it follows that this is the true reason you chose me, and that my influence over this situation is in fact greater than yours.”

In an instant, Q changed from a forbidding figure to a pleading one. “The splitting of the universes – it wasn’t some mere causality loop we could blink out of existence, or enjoy like a top spinning for our amusement. This is different, Spock. We can’t understand why or how, but this split is more vast than anything before it. A fundamental change in the makeup of the universe. _Both_ universes.”

“And the effects, I take it, have been deleterious for the Q Continuum.”

“Our power is fading. Our influence decreases.” Q slumped against Jim’s frozen form, leaning on him as though he were a statue. Behind him, the white dwarf star’s flares glowed ever brighter. “You're the only constant left, and it gives you more power than you could ever understand, much less use. Already it’s all I can do to tug you from your universe into this one. But don’t you see that what I've done is truly for the best? For both of us? Think of it, Spock – not only will you have the best of both worlds, but you’ll also be the friend and benefactor of the Q Continuum! Not a bad thing to be, I assure you.”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “I predict that your gratitude would decrease in a proportion exactly inverse to the rise of your power.”

“Give me a chance, Spock. After all, isn’t this the universe you must choose?”

“No. It is not.”

“What do you mean?”

“I will create no gods, Q,” Spock said. “Particularly none so deceitful and capricious as you. You wish to undo what has already been done, for purposes that are at best grandiose and at worst malevolent. I therefore am resolved to resist you.”

Q stepped closer, angry now. “You’ll destroy Vulcan. You’ll kill your own mother. Can you live with that?”

“In one timeline, they are already gone,” Spock said. “In the other, they will enjoy peace and long life. In neither case can my behavior influence their fate.”

He thought of his mother’s face on the viewscreen, and what he had said to her. It was some comfort to know they had shared this moment – one that would be a part of both universes, forever after.

“You can’t do it! You won’t! Tell me now, Spock, will you let all of this go?” Q flung his arms open wide, and the scene around them changed – into a hazy orange sky and dark sands, and the familiar soft crescent of Delta Vega in the sky. Once more, Spock breathed in the warm air of Vulcan; the scent of it brought back a thousand memories, each of them now tinged with loss. “You can’t do it. You can’t. You’re part human, and no human could bear it.”

“I am part Vulcan. And in either case, I will bear it.”

Q stamped his foot. “You – are – _no fun at all_!”

“So I have previously been informed.”

The image of Vulcan – and this time, Spock knew, it truly was only an illusion – faded around them. As the sands melted into the familiar shapes of the bridge, Spock thought, _Farewell._

Then he closed his eyes tightly and envisioned the red dwarf star, its surface roiling sluggishly, flares lancing up against the black –

Pain arced through him, freezing every muscle of his body for a split-second, an agony not unlike being electrocuted. Spock heard himself fall, rather than felt it, and when he opened his eyes, at first he could see only the haze of red alert lights. Images clarified and took form, coalescing into the worried face of Nyota above him.

“Spock!” Jim called from his chair. “How much longer does this go on?”

Spock rasped, “It is over, Captain.”

“Over?” Nyota stared at him in disbelief. “It can’t be over. We’re still here.”

Accepting her offered arm, Spock let her help him to his feet so that he could look at the viewscreen – and see the red dwarf star. Had he been human, he would have sighed in relief. “All is as it will be, Captain.”

Jim’s forehead furrowed. “You mean, you’ve – made your choice.”

“Affirmative.”

Jim sagged back in his chair, and Sulu leaned forward with his face in his palms. Nyota’s hand tightened around Spock’s forearm; he could tell that she wanted to kiss him but was refraining, to respect his need for decorum.

“Why, Spock?” Jim said. “Why did you choose this universe?”

“I did as logic dictated, Captain, no more. With your permission, I will explain in further detail later.” Exhaustion weighed heavier upon Spock now that he was free to surrender to it. “Suffice it to say that the continuity of this universe is assured, and the ship should be troubled no further.”

“Very well.” Jim’s hands settled on the arms of his chair. “You’re off duty for the next 48 hours, Spock. Enjoy the rest.”

“Enjoyment is an emotion, Captain.”

“The best one there is,” Jim said.

Nyota walked with him to the turbolift, providing assistance while making it seem as though she were clinging to him for comfort. He realized that she was temporarily sacrificing her professional demeanor in order to preserve his dignity. “Are you sure you’re well? That you don’t need Dr. McCoy?”

“I will be well. And I never require Dr. McCoy.”

Nyota smiled slightly. “I’ll see you when my shift ends in a couple of hours.” It was a simple promise, one more weighted for him than it had ever been before. He had experienced his life without her constant presence and affection, and decided quite definitely that he preferred this alternative.

As the turbolift doors slid open, she let go of his arm at last. Spock considered for a moment, then leaned down and quickly kissed her upon the lips.

No sooner had he stepped away than Nyota covered her open mouth in amazement. In the distance, Spock could see Sulu and Chekov sharing an amused look, and he found it did not trouble him in the slightest.

“Spock?” Nyota whispered.

Just before the turbolift doors slid shut, Spock replied, “The cause was sufficient.”

 

THE END


End file.
